November 12, 2024

Two days ago I ran in the Manchester, New Hampshire Marathon. Not only did I PR by about 45 minutes but I didn’t get injured, which was my main goal. The day began with a 6am alarm rousing me from a night of anxious, fractured sleep. I scarfed down a couple mini-muffins, drank some water, and double-checked my supplies. Hydration vest (full, 1.5L), 6 GU gels, 4 packets of GU energy chews, charged watch and headphones, running shoes, toe-socks, sunglasses, hat, tank top, and stretched muscles. The drive went by quickly. It was the first time in a while that I felt physically nervous. My body was wired, how I imagine it might feel for a foot soldier to go into battle, facing an uncertain fate where pain is an inevitable best case scenario. It’s a funny feeling, one that I missed in some measure if I’m being honest. The entire endeavor of the marathon, even running as a hobby is a beautiful dance between punishment and reward, pain and pleasure, destruction and growth, dark lows and bright glory. That’s a bit dramatic but whatever.
The race went very well. I started out holding back a bit, knowing that I would thank myself in a dozen or so miles when the dreaded wall crept loser and closer. The first half of the race had a good bit of elevation. At the 13.1 mile mark,the half-marathoners finished, crossing the line in magnificent fashion, tantalizingly in front of the full runners, who took a left turn, preparing to do the same thing they just did again, with no break. I did take a few breaks, relieving myself of some water weight three times. Other than that, I just kept truckin. The wall I had dreaded never showed its cowardly face, and my fragile spots (left pereoneal tendon, left meniscus) only flared up for brief segments of the run. I cramped up momentarily on a final climb heading into mile 26, but finished the race with some gas in the tank, leaving me wondering if I could have stepped on the gas a few miles earlier. Perhaps next time! For now, I will bask in the pleasure of having hit my goal out of the park and being in the best shape of my life.
Other than that, the semester has been progressing quite well. My classes continue to be relatively routine, with the exception of my class on substance use that just piling on the pros column of going to social work school ASAP. A few weeks after my last blog entry, I went to the cape with pretty much all of my dear friends from home, friends who raised eachother. It was an amazing time that I don’t think I will detail in great depth. It was simply so precious.
I would be remiss to post an early-November blog without delving into Halloweekend. This year was an especially auspicious spooky season, for there were consecutive weekends that landed close enough to the hallowed eve to merit dressing up, playing pretend, and partying. The first weekend began with a murder mystery dinner party that I wrote, performed by pretty much all of my dear friends from every and all chapters of my life. Almost all of my friends from home in the state came, people from my gap year, freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior years, as well as from the trips to Uzbekistan, Croatia, Japan, and Italy. Honestly the most discombobulating collision of worlds imaginable. Writing this, I am i that I have not come even close to processing how cool of an evening that was. Many people got super into character and investigated the mystery vigorously. Sadly, nobody came really remotely close to figuring out the truth. To me, that just added to the fun. The night climaxed with a semi-violent round of hungry hungry hippos that represented the Cock Brawl, an annual rooster fight hosted at Lotus Garden Inn. You can read the entire 30k word document on the Writing page of this website.
The next night I dressed as Frosty the Snowman, complete with coal eyes and corncob pipe. I joined some dear friends for a bit of bar crawling before a birthday party in Eastie and a final party downtown. Pretty intense. The interceding week passed in a tired blur, including a lovely evening at Grindel’s in Harvard Square to celebrate Luke’s birthday and my final long run on Halloween itself. That Friday I was a runner (anti-ironic?), and Saturday saw my favorite costume, one I am so often told I resemble naturally: Victor vanDort from Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. I put on a full three piece suit, makeup, and hairspray for a rather uncanny recreation if I do say so myself. It all went smashingly, with gracious hosts and hysterical friends at every step of the way.
I find myself looking to the future often now, what with my time at Undergrad dwindling away. As I sit here, I have three weeks and two days until my very last assignment will be turned in, if all goes to plan that is. Fingers crossed! I must admit that I am very ready to get back on the road. More and more I also feel the draw to professional development, diving into a career that I hope will generate meaning, stability, and community. Perhaps this magnetism is in part due to a growing sense of maturity, perhaps more due to a fear of being truly untethered for the first time in my life. Only tethered to this blog, of course! Never fear, dear reader.
It would seem I’ve largely run out of things I feel like sharing here.